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UNITED STATICS OF AMERICA. 






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THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 
AND OTHER POEMS 



"Bj^ % IV. GILDER 

I. THE CKEW DAY 
II. THE CELESTIAL 'PASSION 
III. LYRICS 
IF. TWO WORLDS, ^ND OTHER 'POEMS 

V. THE GREAT l^EMEMBRANCE, SMOOTHER TO EMS 



THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 
AND OTHER POEMS ^ BY 
RICHARD WATSON GILDER 




PUBLISHED BY THE 
CENTURY CO. N. Y. 

1893 



s^i^fy 






Copyright, 1893, 

By Richard Watson Gilder. 

All rights reserved. 



THE DEVINNE PRESS. 



CONTENTS 
I 

PAGE 

The Great Remembrance : Read at the Annual Reunion 
of the Society of the Army of the Potomac, Faneuil Hall, 
Boston, June 27, 1893 r . Ii 

II 

"The White City" (The Columbian Exposition Buildings 

have thus been named by Mr. H. C. Bunner) . . 27 

The Vanishing City 30 

The Tower of Flame : The Columbian Exposition, July 

10, 1893 : In Memory of the Firemen who bravely Perished 34 

Lowell 35 

The Silence of Tennyson 38 

On the Death of a Great Man (Phillips Brooks) . 39 

Fame 40 

A Monument by St. Gaudens 41 

A Memory of Rubinstein 42 

5 



6 CONTENTS 

PAGE 

" How Paderewski Plays " 43 

The Actor 46 

The Stricken Player 47 

Eleonora Duse 48 

Kelp Rock (E. C. S.) 49 

At Niagara 50 

The Child-Gardex . . , . . . . .51 

A Child 53 

Two Valleys 54 

On the Bay 56 

Indirection 57 

"Ah, Be Not False " 58 

The Answer 59 

How Death may Make a Man 60 

"Came to a Master of Song" 62 

Meridian 64 

Evening in Tyringham Valley 66 



III 



A BOOK OF SONGS 

" Because the Rose Must Fade " 69 

" Fades the Rose " 71 

The Wintry Heart 72 

Hast Thou Heard the Nightingale? - • - IZ 
"In that Dread, Dreamed-of Hour" . . . .75 

" Rose-dark the Solemn Sunset " . . . . 76 

Winds to the Silent Morn tj 



CONTENTS 7 
IV 
A WEEK'S CALENDAR 

PAGE 

I. New Year 8i 

II. A New Soul » c 82 

III. "Keep Pure thy Soul" 83 

IV. "Thy Mind is Like a Crystal Brook" . » 84 

V. ''^'One Deed may Mar a Life" .... 85 

VI. The Unknown 86 

VII. Irrevocable 87 



Decorations by H. de K. 



I 

THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 




THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 

READ AT THE ANNUAL REUNION OF THE SOCIETY OF 

THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC, FANEUIL HALL, BOSTON, 

JUNE 27, 1893 



COMRADES, the circle narrows, heads grow white, 
As once more by the camp-fire's flaring light 
We gather and clasp hands, as we have done 
These many, many years. So long ago 
A part we were of all that glorious show, — 
Stood, side by side, 'neath the red battle-sun, — 
So long ago we breathed war's thunderous breath, 
Knew the white fury of that life-in-death, 
So long ago that troubled joy, it seems 
The valorous pageant might resolve to splendid dreams. 



12 THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 

But no ! Too deep 't is burned into the brain ! 
As well were lightning-scar by summer rain 
Washed clean away, when stroke on blinding stroke 
Hath torn the rock, and riven the blackened oak. 

How oft as down these peaceful streets we pass 
All vanishes save, lo! the rutted grass. 
Wrecked caissons, frightened beasts, and, merciful God 1 
The piteous burden of the ensanguined sod! 

Yet not all terror doth the memory save 
From war's emblazonry and open grave: 
In glimpses, flashing hke a meteor's Hght, 
We see the army marching in the night; 
Or, look! a thousand tents gleam through the black f 
Or, now, where quick-built camp-fires flame and crack, 
From blaze to shade men stretch o'erwearied limbs. 
Chant songs, or wake the hills with chorused hymns; 
Or, ere the dawn makes pale the starry dark, 
The fiery signals, spark on trailing spark. 
Write on the silent sky their still command. 
While the great army moves, as by a single hand. 



THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 13 

So LONG ago it seems, so long ago, 
Behold, our sons, grown men since those great days, — 
Born since the last clear bugle ceased to blow 
Its summons down the valley; since the bays 
Shook with the roar of fort and answering fleet, — 
Our very children look into our eyes 
And find strange records, with a mute surprise, 
As they some curious traveler might greet 
Who kept far countries in his musing mind. 
Beyond the weltering seas, the mountain-walls behind. 

And yet it was this land, and not another, 
Where blazed war's flames and rolled the battle-cloud. 
In all this land there was no home where brother. 
Father, or son hurried not forth; where bowed 
No broken-hearted woman when pale Death 
Laid his cold finger on the loved one's breath. 

Like to a drama did the scene unroll, — 
Some dark, majestic drama of the soul. 
Wherein all strove as actors, hour by hour. 
Yet breathless watched the whole swift, tragic play. 
Faithful did each his Httle part essay. 



14 



THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 



Urged to an end unknown by one all-knowing Power; 

While if the drama pauses, now and then, 

On the huge stage, 't is for a moment only, — 

Here at the heart or in some vista lonely, 

A single hero or a million men, — 

And with the tragic theme the world resounds again. 

First, — in the awful waiting came the shock. 
The shame unbearable, — the sacred flag assailed — 
Assailed in freedom's name by those who freedom 

mock! 
Ah, then the oath, to stand as stands the rock 
'Gainst flood and tempest, lest that flag be trailed 
And torn, or any star therefrom be lost — 
The oath, murmured alone, or where the crowd. 
As by a wind of heaven swept and tost. 
Passioned its soul to God, and strong men wept aloud. 

Then sweet farewell; O bitter-sweet farewell, 
O brave farewell! Who were the bravest then, 
Or they who went, or waited — women or men? 
They who the cheers heard, or the funeral knell? 
They who stepped proudly to the rattling drum, 
Inflamed by war's divine delirium. 



THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE i^ 

Or they who knew no mad joy of the fight, 
And yet breathed on through waiting day and weep- 
ing night? 

Farewell and forward! O to Hve it over, 
The first wild heart-beat of heroic hours! 
Forward, hke mountain-torrents after showers! 
Forward to death, as to his bride the lover! 
Forward, till quick recoils the impetuous flood. 
And ends the first dread scene in terror and in blood! 

Onward once more, through sun and shivering 
storm, — 
A monstrous length with wavering bulk enorm,— 
Wounded or striking, bringing blood or bleeding, 
Onward, still on, the agony unheeding! 
Onward with failing heart, or courage high! 
Onward through heat, and hunger, and dismay. 
Turning the starry night to murderous day! 
Onward, with hope appalled, once more to strike, 
and die! 



1 6 THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 

So MARCHED, SO fought, SO agonizcd, the hosts; 
Batthng through forests; rotting where slow crawls 
The deathly swamp-stream; and like paUid ghosts 
Haunting the hospitals, and loathed prison-walls. 
They knew what freedom was, and right to breathe 
Clean air who burrowed from the filth and seethe 
Of foulest pens, only that dogs might track, 
And to the death-pit drag their living corpses back. 

Oh, would to Heaven some sights could fade from 
out 
Clear memory's all too melancholy page — 
Fade and be gone forever! Let the shout 
Of victory only linger, and the rage 
And glory of battle over land and sea, 
And all that noblest is in war's fierce pageantry. 

Echoes of deeds immortal, O awake, 
Tremble to language, into music break, 
Till lyric memory takes the old emotion, 
And leaps from heart to heart the ancient thrill! 
Tell of great deeds that yet the wide earth fill : 
How first upon the amazed waves of ocean 
The black, infernal, deadly armored-ships 



THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 17 

Together rushed, and all the world stood still, 
While a new word of war burst from those iron lips ; 
How up the rivers thundered the strong fleets; 
How the great captains 'gainst each other dashed 
Gigantic armies. What wild welcome meets 
Some well-loved chief who, ere those armies clashed, 
Rides like a whirlwind the embattled line, 
Kindling the stricken ranks to bravery divine ! 
And, hark, at set of sun, the cheer that greets 
Victorious news from far-off armies, flashed 
From camp to camp, with roar on answering roar, 
Like bellowing waves that track the tempest down the 
shore. 
But chiefly tell of that one hour of all 
When threatening war rolled highest its full tide. 
Even to the perilous northern mountain-side 
Where Heaven should bid our good cause rise or fall. 
Tell of that hour, for never in all the world 
Was braver army against braver hurled. 
To both the victory, all unawares. 
Beyond all dreams of losing or of winning; 
For the new land which now is ours and theirs, 
2 



1 8 THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 

Had on that topmost day its glorious beginning. 
They who charged up that drenched and desperate 

slope 
Were heroes all — and looked in heroes' eyes! 
Ah ! heroes never heroes did despise ! 
That day had Strife its bloodiest bourn and scope; 
Above the shaken hills and sulphurous skies 
Peace lifted up her mournful head and smiled on 

Hope. 

Rushed the great drama on its tragic way 
Swift to the happy end from that tremendous day. 
Happy, indeed, could memory lose her power 
And yield to joy alone the glad, triumphant hour; 
Happy if every aching heart could shun 
Remembrance of the unreturning one; 
If at the Grand Review, when mile on mile 
And day on day the marching columns passed, 
Darkened not o'er the world the shadow vast 
Of his foul murder, — he the free from guile. 
Sad-hearted, loving, and beloved, and wise. 
Who ruled with sinewy hands and dreaming eyes. 



THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 19 

What soul that lived then who remembers not 
The hour, the landscape, ah ! the very spot — 
Hateful for aye — where news that he was slain 
Fell like a hammer on the dazed brain! 

So LONG ago it was, so long ago. 
All, all have passed ; the terror and the splendor 
Have turned Hke yesterevening's stormy glow 
Into a sunset memory strange and tender. 
How beautiful it seems, what lordly sights, 
What deeds sublime, what wondrous days and nights, 
What love of comrades, ay, what quickened breath, 
When first we knew that, startled, quaihng, still 
We too, even we, along the blazing hill — 
We, with the best, could face and conquer death ! 

Glorious all these, but these all less than naught 
To the one passion of those days divine — 
Love of the land our own hearts' blood had bought: 
Our country, our own country, yours and mine, 
Then known, then sternly loved, first in our lives. 
Ah, loved we not our children, sisters, wives ? 



20 THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 

But our own country, this was more than they, — 
Our wives, our children, this, — our hope, our love 
For all most dear, but more — the dawning day 
Of freedom for the world: the hope above 
All hope for the sad race of man. For where. 
In what more lovely world, 'neath skies more fair, 
If freedom here should fail, could it find soil and air? 

In this one thought, one passion, — whate'er fate 
Still may befall, — one moment we were great! 
One moment in Hfe's brief, perplexed hour 
We climbed the height of being, and the power 
That falls alone on those who love their kind 
A moment made us one with the Eternal Mind. 

One moment, ah, not so, dear Country ! Thou 
Art still our passion; still to thee we bow 
In love supreme ! Fairer than e'er before 
Art thou to-day — from golden shore to shore 
The home of freemen. Not one stain doth chng 
Now to thy banner. Argosies of war 
On thy imperial rivers bravely fling 
Flags of the nations^ but no message bring 



THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 21 

Save of peace only; while, behold, from far 

The Old World comes to greet thy natal star 

That with the circling century returns, 

And in the Western heavens with fourfold beauty burns. 

Land that we love ! Thou Future of the World ! 
Thou refuge of the noble heart oppressed ! 
Oh never be thy shining image hurled 
From its high place in the adoring breast 
Of him who worships thee with jealous love ! 
Keep thou thy starry forehead as the dove 
All white, and to the eternal Dawn inclined ! 
Thou art not for thyself but for mankind. 
And to despair of thee were to despair 
Of man, of man's high destiny, of God ! 
Of thee should man despair, the journey trod 
Upward, through unknown eons, stair on stair. 
By this our race, with bleeding feet and slow, 
Were but the pathway to a darker woe 
Than yet was visioned by the heavy heart 
Of prophet. 



2 2 THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 

Comrades, see, the fire burns low, 
And darkness thickens. Soon will our brief part 
On earth forever end, and we shall go 
To join the unseen ranks; nor will we swerve 
Or fear, when to the silent, great reserve 
At last we ordered are — as one by one 
Our Captains have been called, their labors done, 
To rest and wait in the Celestial Field. 
Ay, year by year, we to the dead did yield 
Our bravest. Them we followed to the tomb 
Sorrowing; for they were worthy of our love, 
High-souled and generous, loving peace above 
War and its glories: therefore lives no gloom 
In this our sorrow; rather pride, and praise. 
And gratitude, and memory of old days. 

A little while and these tired hands v.ill cease 
To lift obedient or in war or peace, — 
Faithful we trust in peace as erst in war; 
And on the scroll of peace some triumphs are 
Noble as battles won; though less resounds 
The fame, as deep and bitter are the wounds. 

But now the fire burns low, and we must sleep 



THE GREAT REMEMBRANCE 



23 



Erelong, while other eyes than ours the vigil keep. 

And after we are gone, to other eyes 

That watch below shall come, in starry skies, 

A fairer dawn, whereon in fiery light 

The Eternal Captain shall his signals write; 

And shaken from rest, and gazing at that sign. 

On shall the mighty Nation move, led by a hand divine. 




II 

THE WHITE CITY," ETC. 




THE WHITE CITY 



GREECE was ; Greece is no more. 
Temple and town 
Have crumbled down ; 

Time is the fire that hath consumed them all. 
Statue and wall 
In ruin strew the universal floor. 



Greece lives, but Greece no more ! 
Its ashes breed 
The undying seed 



28 " THE WHITE CITY'' 

Blown westward till, in Rome's imperial towers, 

Athens reflowers; 

Still westward — lo, a veiled and virgin shore! 

Ill 

Say not, " Greece is no more." 

Through the clear morn 

On light winds borne 

Her white-winged soul sinks on the New World's breast. 

Ah! happy West — 

Greece flowers anew, and all her temples soar ! 

IV 

One bright hour, then no more 

Shall to the skies 

These columns rise. 

But though art's flower shall fade, again the seed 

Onward shall speed, 

Quickening the land from lake to ocean's roar. 



THE WHITE CITY" 29 



Art lives, though Greece may never 

From the ancient mold 

As once of old 

Exhale to heaven the inimitable bloom; 

Yet from that tomb 

Beauty walks forth to light the world forever! 



THE VANISHING CITY 



Enraptured memory, and all ye powers of being, 

To new life waken ! Stamp the vision clear 
On the soul's inmost substance. Oh, let seeing 

Be more than seeing ; let the entranced ear 
Take deep these surging sounds, inweaved with light 

Of unimagined radiance ; let the intense 
Illumined lovehness that thrills the night 

Strike in the human heart some deeper sense ! 
So shall these domes that meet heaven's curved blue, 

And yon long, white imperial colonnade. 
And many-columned peristyle endue 

The mind with beauty that shall never fade : 
Though all too soon to dark oblivion wending — 
Reared in one happy hour to know as swift an ending. 

30 



THE VANISHING CITY 31 



Thou shalt of all the cities of the world 

Famed for their grandeur, ever more endure 
Imperishably and all alone impearled 

In the world's living thought, the one most sure 
Of love undying and of endless praise 

For beauty only — chief of all thy kind; 
Immortal, even because of thy brief days ; 

Thou cloud-built, fairy city of the mind! 
Here man doth pluck from the full tree of Hfe 

The latest, lordliest flower of earthly art ; 
This doth he breathe, while resting from his strife, 

This presses he against his weary heart; 
Then, wakening from his dream within a dream. 
He flings the faded flower on Time's down-rushing 
stream. 

Ill 

Oh, never as here in the eternal years 

Hath burst to bloom man's free and soaring spirit, 
Joyous, untrammeled, all untouched by tears 

And the dark weight of woe it doth inherit. 



32 THE VANISHING CITY 

Never so swift the mind's imaginings 

Caught sculptured form, and color. Never before — 
Save where the soul beats unembodied wings 

'Gainst viewless skies — was such enchanted shore 
Jeweled with ivory palaces like these: 

By day a miracle, a dream by night ; 
Yet real as beauty is, and as the seas 

Whose waves glance back keen lines of glittering light 
When milHon lamps, and coronets of fire, 
And fountains as of flame, to the bright stars aspire. 

IV 

Glide, magic boat, from out the green lagoon, 

'Neath the dark bridge, into this smiting glow 
And unthought glory. Even the glistening moon 

Hangs in the nearer splendor. — Let not go 
The scene, my soul, till ever 't is thine own ! 

This is Art's citadel and crown. How still 
The innumerous multitudes from every zone, 

That watch and listen; while each eye doth fill 
With joyous tears unwept. Now solemn strains 

Of brazen music give the waiting soul 



THE VANISHING CITY 



33 



Voice and a sigh — it other speech disdains, 

Here where the visual sense faints to its goal! 
Ah, silent multitudes, ye are a part 
Of the wise architect's supreme and glorious art ! 



O joy almost too high for saddened mortal ! 

O ecstasy envisioned ! Thou shouldst be 
Lasting as thou art lovely; as immortal 

As through all time the matchless thought of thee! 
Yet would we miss, then, the sweet, piercing pain 

Of thy inconstancy! Could we but banish 
This haunting pang, ah, then thou wouldst not reign 

One with the golden sunset that doth vanish 
Through myriad lingering tints down melting skies; 

Nor the pale mystery of the New World flower 
That blooms once only, then forever dies — 

Pouring a century's wealth on one dear hour. 
Then vanish. City of Dream, and be no more; 
Soon shall this fair Earth's self be lost on the un- 
known shore. 
3 



THE TOWER OF FLAME 

THE COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION, JULY lO, 1893 



Here for the world to see men brought their fairest, 
Whatever of beauty is in all the earth; 

The priceless flower of art, the loveliest, rarest, 
Here by our inland ocean came to glorious birth. 



Vet on this day of doom a strange new splendor 
Shed its celestial light on all men's eyes : 

Flower of the hero-soul, — consummate, tender, — 
That from the tower of flame sprang to the etemc 
skies. 



34 



LOWELL 



From the shade of the elms that murmured above thy 

birth 
And the pines that sheUered thy hfe and shadowed 

the end, 
'Neath the white-blue skies thee to thy rest we 

bore, — 
'Neath the summer skies thou didst love, 'mid the 

songs of thy birds. 
By thy childhood's stream, 'neath the grass and the 

flowers thou knewest. 
Near the grave of the singer whose name with thine 

own is enlaureled. 
By the side of the brave who live in thy deathless 

song,— 
Here all that was mortal of thee we left, with our 

tears, 
With our love, and our grief that could not be 

quenched or abated: 

35 



36 LOWELL 

For even the part that was mortal, sweet friend and 
companion ! 

That face, and that figure of beauty, and flashing eye 

Which in youth shone forth like a god's 'mid lesser men, 

And in gray-haired, strenuous age still glowed and 
lustered,— 

These, too, were dear to us, — blame us not, soaring 
spirit ! 

These, too, were dear — and now we shall never be- 
hold them. 

Nor ever shall feel the quick clasp of thy welcoming 
hand. 



But not for ourselves alone are we spent in grieving, — 
For the stricken Land we mourn whose Hght is dark- 
ened, 
Whose soul in sorrow went forth in the night-time 

with thine. 
Lover and laureate thou of the wide New World, 
Whose pines, and prairies, and people, and teeming soil, 
Where was shaken of old the seed of the freedom of 



LOWELL 32 

Thou didst love as a strong man loveth the maiden 
he woos, — 

Not the woman he toys with, and sings to, and, pass- 
ing, forgets,— 

Whom he woos, whom he wins, whom he weds, his 
passion, his pride. 

Who no shadow of wrong shall suffer, who shall stand 
in his sight 

Pure as the sky of the evil her foeman may threat, 

Save by word or by thought of her own in her white- 
ness untouched, 

And wounded alone of the lightning her spirit engen- 
ders. 

Ill 

Take of thy grief new strength, new life, O Land ! 

Weep no more he is lost, but rejoice and be glad for- 
ever 

That thy lover who died was born, for thy pleasure, 
thy glory,— 

While his love and his fame Hght ever thy climbing 
path. 
August 14, 1891. 



THE SILENCE OF TENNYSON 

When that great shade into the silence vast 

Through thinking silence passed; 

When he, our century's soul and voice, was hushed, 

We who, — appalled, bowed, crushed, — 

Within the holy moonUght of his death 

Waited the parting breath — 

Ah, not in song 

Might we our grief prolong. 

Silence alone, O golden spirit fled! 

Silence alone could mourn that silence dread. 



ON THE DEATH OF A GREAT MAN 

When from this mortal scene 
A great soul passes to the vast unknown, 
Let not in hopeless grief the spirit groan. . 
Death comes to all, the mighty and the mean. 
If by that death the whole world suffers loss. 
This be the proof (and lighter thus our cross), 
That he for whom the world doth sorely grieve 
Greatly hath blessed mankind in that he once 

did live. 
Then, at the parting breath 
Let men praise Life, nor idly blame dark Death. 



39 



FAME 

Fame is an honest things 

It is deceived not; 

It passes by the palace gates 

Where the crowned usurper waits. 

Enters the peasant-poet's cot 

And cries — '^Thou art the king!' 



A MONUMENT BY ST. GAUDENS 

This is not Death, nor Sorrow, nor sad Hope; 
Nor Rest that follows strife. But, oh more dread! 
'T is Life, for all its agony serene; 
Immortal, and unmournful, and content. 



A MEMORY OF RUBINSTEIN 

He of the ocean is, its thunderous waves 
Echo his music; while far down the shore 
Mad laughter hurries, — a white, blowing spume. 
I hear again in memory that wild storm : 
The winds of heaven go rushing round the world, 
And broods above the rage one sphinx-like face. 



HOW PADEREWSKI PLAYS" 



If words were perfume, color, wild desire ; 

If poet's song were fire 

That burned to blood in purple-pulsing veins; 

If with a bird-Hke thrill the moments throbbed to 

hours; 
If summer's rains 

Turned drop by drop to shy, sweet, maiden flowers; 
If God made flowers with light and music in them, 
And saddened hearts could win them ; 
If loosened petals touched the ground 
With a caressing sound ; 

If love 's eyes uttered word 
No hstening lover e'er before had heard; 
If silent thoughts spake with a bugle's voice; . 
If flame passed into song and cried, " Rejoice ! Re> 
joice ! " 



44 



''HOW PADEREWSKI PLAYS 



If words could picture life's, hope's, heaven's eclipse 
When the last kiss has fallen on dying eyes and lips; 
If all of mortal woe 
Struck on one heart with breathless blow on blow; 

If melody were tears, and tears were starry gleams 
That shone in evening's amethystine dreams ; 
Ah, yes, if notes were stars, each star a different hue, 
Trembling to earth in dew ; 
Or if the boreal pulsings, rose and white, 
Made a majestic music in the night; 
If all the orbs lost in the light of day 
In the deep, silent blue began their harps to play; 

And when in frightening skies the Hghtnings flashed 
And storm-clouds crashed, 

If every stroke of light and sound were but excess 
of beauty; 

If human syllables could e'er refashion 
That fierce electric passion ; 

If other art could match (as were the poet's duty) 
The grieving, and the rapture, and the thunder 
Of that keen hour of wonder, — 

That Hght as if of heaven, that blackness as of hell, — 
How Paderewski plays then might I dare to tell. 



BO IV PADEREWSKI PLAYS'' 45 



II 

How Paderewski plays ! And was it he 
Or some disbodied spirit that had rushed 
From silence into singing; that had crushed 
Into one startled hour a life's felicity, 
And highest bHss of knowledge — that all Hfe, grief, 

wrong. 
Turn at the last to beauty and to song! 



THE ACTOR 



Glorious that ancient art ! — 
In thine own form to show the fire and fashion 
Of every age and dime, of every passion 
That dwells in man's deep heart! 



Actor, act well, not meanly, 

Thy part in life, as on the mimic stage ! 

From highest thought is born art's noblest rage: 

Live, act, end all, serenely ! 



46 



THE STRICKEN PLAYER 

When at life's last the stricken player lies, 
When throng before his darkened, dreaming eyes 
His soul's companions: which more real then — 
The human comrades, the live women and men 
Of the large world he knew, or the ideal 
Imagined creatures his own art made real, — 
Wherein he poured his spirit's very being, 
His soul and body ? Are those dim eyes seeing 
Himself as one of Shakespeare's men ? Are maids 
And queens he wooed, the kings he was, or knew 
Upon the tragic stage, — are these the shades 
That now his visionary hours pursue, 
Attendant on his passing? Listen near! 
What breathed murmurs 'scape those palHd lips 
To which the nations hearkened, ere the eclipse 
Of all that brightness? Now lean close and hear; 
Ah, see that look, sweeter than when he smiled 
Upon the applauding world, — while she draws near 
And hears a dear voice whisper, " Child, my Child ! " 



ELEONORA DUSE 

If ever flashed upon this mortal scene 

A soul unsheathed, a pale, trembling flame^ 

That suffered every gust, and yet did cling 

With fire unquenchable — it is thine own. 

Thou artist of the real! Unto thee 

No mirth of life is secret; but, sweet soul, 

With what sure art thou picturest human woe ! 

How natural tears to those ItaHan eyes — 

Shadowing in untold depths whatever grief 

FamiHar is to mortals ! 



KELP ROCK 

" Rock 's the song-soil," truly 
(So sang one bard of power); 
Therefore our poet duly 
Built on this rock his tower. 
And therefore in his singing 
We hear the storm-bell ringing, 
The siren's piercing warning 
Through misty eve and morning, 
The sea-winds roaring, sighing, 
The long waves rising, falling. 
We hear the herons calling, 
The clashing waves replying. 



49 



AT NIAGARA 



There at the chasm's edge behold her lean 
Trembling as, 'neath the charm, 
A wild bird lifts no wing to 'scape from harm; 
Her very soul drawn to the glittering, green, 
Smooth, lustrous, awful, lovely curve of peril; 
While far below the bending sea of beryl 
Thunder and tumult — whence a billowy spray 
Enclouds the day. 



What dream is hers ? No dream hath wTOUght that spell ! 
The long waves rise and sink; 
Pity that virgin soul on passion's brink. 
Confronting Fate, — swift, unescapable, — 
Fate, which of nature is the intent and core, 
And dark and strong as the steep river's pour, 
Cruel as love, and wild as love's first kiss ! 
Ah, God ! the abyss ! 

50 



THE CHILD-GARDEN 

In the child-garden buds and blows 
A blossom lovelier than the rose. 

If all the flowers of all the earth 
In one garden broke to birth, 

Not the fairest of the fair 

Could with this sweet bloom compare 

Nor would all their shining be 
Peer to its lone bravery. 

Fairer than the rose, I say? 
Fairer than the sun-bright day 

In whose rays all glories show, 
All beauty is, all blossoms blow. 

What this blossom, fragrant, tender. 
That outbeams the rose's splendor, — 



52 



THE CHILD-GARDEN 

Purer is, more tinct with light 
Than the hly's flame of white ? 

Of beauty hath this flower the whole, 
And its name — the Human Soul! 

While beside it deeply shine 
Blooms that take its light divine : 

The perilous sweet flower of Hope 
Here its hiding eyes doth ope. 

And Gentleness doth near uphold 
Its heahng leaves and heart of gold; 

Here tender fingers push the seed 

Of Knowledge; pluck the poisonous weed; 

Here blossoms Joy one singing hour, 
And here of Love the immortal flower. 



A CHILD 



Her voice was like the song of birds; 

Her eyes were like the stars; 
Her little waving hands were like 

Bird's wings that beat the bars. 



And when those waving hands were still, 

Her soul had fled away, — 
The music faded from the air. 

The color from the day. 



TWO VALLEYS 

Yes, 't is a glorious sight, 

This valley, that mountain height. 

The river plunges and roars 
Like the wild sea on its shores 

What time in waves enorm 
Breaks the gigantic storm. 

The wooded mount doth climb 
To a thought intense, sublime. 

The glory of all I feel; 

But my heart, my heart, will steal 

Down the journey of years, 

Through the vale of life, and of tears. 



nVO VALLEYS 55 



Far back to the least of valleys 
Where a slow brook curves and dallies, 

Where a boy, in the twilight gleam. 
Walks alone with his dream. 



ON THE BAY 

This watery vague how vast! This misty globe, 
Seen from this center where the ferry pHes, — 
It phes, but seems to poise in middle air, — 
Soft gray below gray heavens, and in the west 
A rose-gray memory of the sunken sun; 
And, where gray water touches grayer sky, 
A band of darker gray pricked out with lights, — 
A diamond-twinkHng circlet bounding all; 
And where the statue looms, a quenchless star; 
And where the lighthouse, a red, pulsing flame; 
While the great bridge its starry diadem 
Shows through the gray, itself in grayness lost! 



56 



INDIRECTION 

I SAW not the leaf 

But its shadow trembling, trembling down. 
I faced to Northward, to my grief, 

When from the Southern sky a crimson meteor lit 
the star-dark town. 
I saw not naked Love 
Lean from his porphyry throne above 
And touch her heart to flame. 
Yet on her brow I saw the swift, sweet, virgin shame. 



-AH, BE NOT FALSE 



Ah, be not false, sweet Splendor! 

Be true — be good. 
Be wise as thou art tender; 

Be all that Beauty should. 



Not Hghtly be thy citadel subdued; 

Not ignobly, not untimely. 
Take praise in solemn mood; 

Take love sublimely. 



THE ANSWER 

Through starry space two angels dreamed their 

flight, 
'Mid worlds and thoughts of worlds, through day 

and night. 
Then one spake forth whose voice was like the flower 
That blossoms in the fragrant midnight hour. 
This white-browed angel of the other asked, 

" Of all the essences that ever basked 
In the eternal presence; of all things. 
All thoughts, all joys, all dreads, all sorrowings 
Amid the unimaginable vast, — 
Being, or shall be, or forever past, — 
Profound with dark, or hid in endless hght — 
Which of all these most deep and infinite ? " 

Then did the elder speak, the while he turned 
On him who asked clear eyes that slowly burned 
The spirit through, like to a living coal — 
*' No depth there is so deep as woman's soul." 



HOW DEATH MAY MAKE A MAN 



Death is a sorry plight, 
It bringeth unto man 

End of all delight. 

Yet many a woeful wight 
Only dying can 
Quit him hke a man. 



Dawdling, drawling, silly, 

Maundering, scarce a man. 

Driven willy-nilly, 

When he 's dying will he 
Run as once he ran, 
Or quit him like a man ? 

Ill 

Vile from out the wrack 

Crawls he less than man; 



HO IV DEATH MAY MAKE A MAN 6i 

Cowering in his track 

Beaten, broken, black; 

Curse him if you can — 
Death may make him man. 

IV 

In Hfe the wretch did naught 

Worthy of a man; 
Now by Death he 's caught, 
What a change is wrought! 

Whom the world did ban 

Quits life like a man. 



Braced stiff against the wall. 
Behold, at last, a man. 

Lost — life and honor, all ! 

At Death's quick touch and call 
See, the craven can 
Quit him like a man. 



CAME TO A MASTER OF SONG 



Came to a master of song 

And the human heart 
One who had followed him long 

And worshiped his art ; 
One whom the poet's singing 

Had lured from death, 
Joy to the crushed soul bringing 

And Heaven's breath, — 



Came to him once in an hour 

Of terror and stress, 
And cried, " Thou alone hast power 

To save me and bless; 
Thou alone, pure heart and free. 

Canst pluck from disaster — 
If to a wretch hke me 

Thou wilt stoop, O master ! " 

62 



CAME TO A MASTER OF SONG'' (^^ 



III 



Answered the bard with shame, 

And sorrow and trembHng, 
" Was I false, was my song to blame ? 

Was my art dissembling? 
I of all mortals the saddest, 

The quickest to fall, 
And song of mine highest and gladdest — 

Repentance all ! " 



MERIDIAN 



Henceforth before these feet 
Sinks the downward way; 
A little while to greet 
The light and Hfe of day, 
Then night's slow fall 
Ends all. 



Now forward, heart elate, 
Though steep the pathway slope. 
Time yet for love and hate, 
Joy, and joy's shadow — hope, 
Ere night's slow fall 
Ends all. 

Ill 

Still the warm sky is blue. 
No fleck the sunlight mars; 
64 



MERIDIAN 

'Twixt hills the sea gleams through; 
With twiHght come the stars; 
And night's slow fall 
Ends all. 

IV 

In the cool-breathing night 

The starry sky is deep. 

Still on through glimmering light 

Till we lie down to sleep, — 

Then let night's fall 

End all. 



65 



EVENING IN TYRINGHAM VALLEY 

What domes and pinnacles of mist and fire 

Are builded in yon spacious realms of light 
All silently, as did the walls aspire 

Templing the ark of God by day and night ! 
Noiseless and swift, from darkening ridge to ridge, 

Through purple air that deepens down the day, 
Over the valley springs a shadowy bridge. 

The evening star's keen, soHtary ray 
Makes more intense the silence, and the glad, 

Unmelancholy, restful, twilight gloom, — 
So full of tenderness, that even the sad 

Remembrances that haunt the soul take bloom 
Like that on yonder mountain. 

Now the bars 

Of sunset all bum black; the day doth fail, 
And the skies whiten with the eternal stars. 

Oh, let thy spirit stay with me, sweet vale ! 

66 



Ill 

A BOOK OF SONGS 




A BOOK OF SONGS 

BECAUSE THE ROSE MUST FADE 

I 

BECAUSE the rose must fade, 
Shall I not love the rose ? 
Because the summer shade 

Passes when winter blows, 
Shall I not rest me there 
In the cool air ? 



Because the sunset sky 

Makes music in my soul, 

Only to fail and die, 

Shall I not take the whole 

Of beauty that it gives 

While yet it hves ? 
69 



70 '^ BECAUSE THE ROSE MUST FADE'' 

III 

Because the sweet of youth 
Doth vanish all too soon, 

Shall I forget, forsooth, 

To learn its lingering tune — 

My joy to memorize 

In those young eyes ? 

IV 

If, like the summer flower 

That blooms, — a fragrant deaths - 

Keen music hath no power 
To live beyond its breath, 

Then of this flood of song 

Let me drink long ! 



Ah, yes, because the rose 

Doth fade like sunset skies; 

Because rude winter blows 

All bare, and music dies — 

Therefore, now is to me 

Eternity ! 



FADES THE ROSE" 



Fades the rose; the year grows old; 
The tale is told; 
Youth doth depart — 
Only stays the heart. 



-Ah, no ! if stays the heart, 
Youth can ne'er depart, 
-Nor the sweet tale be told — 
Never the rose fade, nor the year grow old. 



THE WINTRY HEART 



On the sad winter trees 

The dead, red leaves remain, 
Though to and fro the bleak winds blow, 

And falls the freezing rain. 

II 

So to the wintry heart 

Chngs color of the past, 
While through dead leaves shudders and grieves 

The melancholy blast. 



HAST THOU HEARD THE NIGHTINGALE ? 



Yes, I have heard the nightingale. 
As in dark woods I wandered, 
And dreamed and pondered, 
A voice passed by. all fire 
And passion and desire; 
I rather felt than heard 
The song of that lone bird : 

Yes, I have heard the nightingale. 



Yes, I have heard the nightingale. 
I heard it, and I followed; 
The warm night swallowed 
This soul and body of mine, 
As burning thirst takes wine, 
While on and on I pressed 
Close to that singing breast : 

Yes, I have heard the nightingale. 

73 



74 



HAST THOU HEARD THE NIGHTINGALE? 
Ill 

Yes, I have heard the nightingale. 

Well doth each throbbing ember 
The flame remember; 
And I — how quick that sound 
Turned drops from a deep wound! 
How this heart was the thorn 
Which pierced that breast forlorn! 

Yes, I have heard the nightingale. 



IN THAT DREAD, DREAMED-OF HOUR" 



In that dread, dreamed-of hour 

When in her heart love's rose flames into flower, 
'T is never, never yes, 

But no, no, no, whate'er the startled eyes confess. 



Her frail denial at last 

Swept clean away like burnt leaves in the blast; 
No longer no, no, no I 

But jw, forever j^i", while love's red rose doth blow. 



"ROSE-DARK THE SOLEMN SUNSET'' 



Rose-dark the solemn sunset 
That holds my thought of thee; 

With one star in the heavens 
And one star in the sea. 



On high no lamp is hghted, 

Nor where the long waves flow, 

Save the one star of evening 
And the shadow star below. 

Ill 

Light of my Life, the darkness 
Comes with the twihght dream; 

Thou art the bright star shining, 
And I but the shadowy gleam. 



76 



WINDS TO THE SILENT MORN 



Winds to the silent morn; 

Waves to the ocean; 
Voice to the song unsung; 

Song to emotion; 
Light to the golden flower; 

Bird to the tree; 
Love to the heart of love, 

And I to thee! 



Dawn to the darkened world; 

Hope to the morrow; 
Music to passion; and 

Weeping to sorrow; 
Love to the heart that longs; 

Moon to the sea; 
Heaven to the earthborn soul, 

And thou to me. 
n 



IV 
A WEEK'S CALENDAR 




A WEEK'S CALENDAR 



NEW YEAR 



EACH New Year is a leaf of our love's rose; 
It falls, but quick another roseleaf grows. 
So is the flower from year to year the same, 
But richer, for the dead leaves feed its flame. 

6 3i 



82 A WEEK'S CALENDAR 



A NEW SOUL 

To SEE the rose of morning slow unfold 
Each wondrous petal to that heart of gold; 
To see from out the dark, unknowing night 
A new soul dawn with such undreamed-of hght, 
And slowly all its loveliness and splendor 
Pour forth as stately music pours, magnificently 
tender ! 



A WEEK'S CALENDAR 83 



HI 



"KEEP PURE THY SOUL" 

Keep pure thy soul ! 

Then shalt thou take the whole 

Of delight ; 

Then, without a pang, 

Thine shall be all of beauty whereof the poet 

sang — 
The perfume, and the pageant, the melody, the 

mirth 
Of the golden day, and the starry night; 
Of heaven, and of earth. 
Oh, keep pure thy soul! 



84 A WEEK'S CALENDAR 



IV 



THY MIND IS LIKE A CRYSTAL BROOK 



Thy mind is like a crystal brook 
Wherein clean creatures live at ease, 
In sun-bright waves or shady nook. 
Birds sing above it, 
The warm-breathed cattle love it, 
It doth sweet childhood please. 



Accursed be him by whom it were undone, 
Or thing or thought whose presence 
The birds and beasts would loathly shun, 
Would make its crystal waters foully run, 
And drive sweet childhood from its pleasance. 



A WEEK'S CALENDAR 85 



*'ONE DEED MAY MAR A LIFE" 

One deed may mar a life, 

And one can make it; 
Hold firm thy will for strife, 
— Lest a quick blow break it! 
Even now from far on viewless wing 
Hither speeds the nameless thing 

Shall put thy spirit to the test. 
Haply or e'er yon sinking sun 

Shall drop behind the purple West 
All shall be lost — or won ! 



86 A WEEK'S CALENDAR 



VI 



THE UNKNOWN 

How STRANGE to think upon the Hfe beyond 

Our human cognizance with so deep awe 

And haunting dread; a sense as of remorse, 

A looking-for of judgment, a great weight 

Of things unknown to happen ! We who Hve 

Blindly from hour to hour in very midst 

Of mysteries; of shapeless, changing glooms; 

Of nameless terrors : issues vast and black ; 

Of airy whims, slight fantasies, and flights 

That lead to unimaginable woe : 

The unweighed word cloying the life of love; 

One clod of earth outblotting all the stars; 

Some secret, dark inheritance of will. 

And the scared soul plunges to conscious doom ! 

Thou who hast wisdom, fear not Death, but Life ! 



A WEEK'S CALENDAR 87 



VII 

IRREVOCABLE 

Would the gods might give 

Another field for human strife; 

Man must Uve one hfe 

Ere he learns to live. 

— Ah, friend in thy deep grave, 

What now can change, what now can save ? 



2,S,!'^ CONGRES? 




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